


New beginnings

by Readingfanfics



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Party, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Panic, Post-Season/Series 04, no john watson in this story, not a fix it bewteen sherlock and john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: “You came.” Hearing the delighted surprise in Lestrade's voice is enough reward for Sherlock. Nothing else needs to happen or not happen.Seeing the real smile on Lestrade's mouth takes some of Sherlock's anxiety away. Till now he wasn't sure if Lestrade had just wanted to be kind. It took him the whole week to make up his mind and tonight he even went back to his flat two times, convinced it had all been a prank.“You invited me, Lestrade.”-------Things are forever changed now that John and Rosie are gone but Sherlock comes to realize he's not truly alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Season 4 was a mess but it does give me the inspiration to write. Hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Thank you to Bel for betaing this!

**\--New beginnings--**

 

**\--Chapter 1--**

 

“You came.” Hearing the delighted surprise in Lestrade's voice is enough reward for Sherlock. Nothing else needs to happen or not happen. 

 

Seeing the real smile on Lestrade's mouth takes some of Sherlock's anxiety away. Till now he wasn't sure if Lestrade had just wanted to be kind. It took him the whole week to make up his mind and tonight he even went back to his flat two times, convinced it had all been a prank. 

 

“You invited me, Lestrade.” 

 

“Yes. I just didn't think-” Greg shakes his head and Sherlock flinches ever so slightly when the man takes his elbow and pulls him further inside. Sally gives him a careful, but also real, smile and Anderson even pats him on the shoulder, wishing him a loud 'Merry Christmas, Sherlock'. 

 

“Want something to drink? We have non-alcoholic drinks too.” Lestrade asks him, letting go of his elbow, but standing close and Sherlock nods his head. He can't help but let his eyes roam around the room, looking for a head of golden blonde hair before realization sets in. 

 

John is not coming. 

 

It's been 4 months, but it can still take his breath away, making his insides hurt. Some days he wakes up, after having crashed down from exhaustion, expecting to hear John rummage around in the kitchen, whistling a hideous song. The feeling when he remembers. It's brutal enough to cut right through him, leaving him in a billion pieces. Pieces that get trampled upon constantly, making it hard to remember he's still around and he's still breathing. 

 

Somehow Lestrade makes him remember that. 

 

After everything that's happened, Mary's death, the Smith case, John and Rosie leaving, it's been hard to just breathe. Something about Lestrade pulls Sherlock towards him. His calm and steady presence. His no-nonsense attitude. His honesty and patience. 

 

God. Lestrade's patience. 

 

“There you go. Sherlock? Is everything okay?” 

 

Sherlock blinks his eyes as he tries to get back in the moment and not cry. These days it feels like he's crying nonstop. He nods his head, taking the fancy glass of lemonade out of Lestrade's warm hand and takes a sip. It's too sweet but he's going to finish it anyway. He's seen the worried looks from Lestrade, how the man's eyes go up and down his frame when he thinks Sherlock can't see it. He never comments, never demands, but Sherlock knows the DI is looking out for him. 

 

In the past that would have set him off, demanding he's not a child and doesn't need looking after but now it feels safe. He feels safe, knowing Lestrade is there. 

 

“How are your cases going? I read about that robbery/murder. I think you should take a closer look at the victim's husband.” 

 

It's not what he wants to ask. He wants to sit down somewhere and talk about important things. Things like how Lestrade is, what makes him tick. But talking about crime has always been easier than talking about feelings. 

 

“I had a feeling that man was hiding something.” Greg nods, taking two sandwiches from a try before gesturing to some nearby chairs. “He seemed too heartbroken. It was all so dramatic and over the top. As if he was putting on a show. I'll let Sally do a background check on him. Tomorrow.” Greg smiles, looking out over the floor before turning to Sherlock and holding up one of the sandwiches in question. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

It tastes like cardboard but Sherlock takes another bite, feeling the warm approval from Lestrade on his skin. 

 

“You look- better.” Lestrade's voice is soft, his body turned to Sherlock and Sherlock takes his time to swallow his last bite. He's not sure how to respond to that so he takes another sip of his drink, bouncing his knee up and down. 

 

“Have you- have you heard from him?” Lestrade's voice is hesitant, almost apologetic and Sherlock looks up, seeing the concern in those brown eyes. It makes Sherlock's heart swell, feeling the sandwich turn around in his stomach.

 

“He's made it clear he never wants to hear from me again.”

 

“I'm sorry Sherlock.” Lestrade drinks the last of his coke, placing it down on the floor near his chair. “You don't deserve it.” An angry edge in the man's voice and Sherlock can't look at him. He's still not sure of Lestrade is right about that. 

 

“You don't.” Sherlock tenses when he feels Lestrade's hand on his knee. It’s just a  gentle pat before it's removed again and suddenly Sherlock feels cold. He can just stop himself from reaching out and taking Lestrade's hand to place back on his knee. 

 

“What John did was-”

 

“Can we not talk about it?” It's sharper than he wants to, seeing the tightness around Lestrade's mouth, but he gets a short nod before the man looks back over the crowd again. 

 

“I think almost everyone showed up this year.”

 

“Except for Lany and Eric. Lany just found out her husband has been having an affair for about a year and Eric had to go visit his mother who has beginning dementia.”

 

“Of course you know that.” Lestrade gives him a bright smile and Sherlock shrugs a shoulder. It can hardly be a surprise, yet Lestrade still looks at him with wonderment from time to time. 

 

“There is a lot I know Lestrade. I am a genius after all.”

 

“Yes. That you are. And so modest.” 

 

It's meant as a joke but Sherlock's stomach contracts anyway. Arrogant. Smart arse. Know it all. Pretentious. He's been all that. Is all that and more, but Lestrade still sees him as a good man. His heart beats faster, the music in the room getting too loud, the voices chattering too overwhelming and he's up and walking before he even realizes it. 

 

_ I am Sherlock Holmes.  _

 

Images of that night come to mind and he can still remember how confident he was. How sure he had it all figured out. That he had it right. He's walking without seeing, bumping into people and he can hear Sally's voice from far away. 

 

“Sherlock, everything-”

 

Then he's inside a dark room and he lets out the tears he's been holding back all day. 


	2. Chapter 2

**\--Chapter2--**

 

“Sherlock?”   
  


Greg's voice cuts through his agonizing thoughts and his whole body tenses up as he hears Greg move behind him. It's saying something about his state of mind that he's only now realized the man is in the same room with him and he holds his breath as the light switches on. 

 

“Sherlock, what's wrong?”

 

He blinks his eyes, the light shooting pain through his head and he lets out a groan before he can stop it, feeling a warm hand on his shoulder. 

 

“I. You suddenly left and I got worried. Sherlock?”

 

“Pl-please. J-just g-go.” He curls his hands into fists, hating his stuttered words and his unsure voice. Greg's hand is still on his shoulder and it grounds him, giving him something solid and warm to focus on as sobs still fight to leave him. It feels like he's been crying for hours and his eyes sting from the tears, skin feeling like sandpaper with the drying tears. 

 

“Please g-go. I. I c-can't.” He breaks out in another sob and suddenly a pair of warm arms curls around his waist, a solid chest pressed against his back and he can't find it in himself to turn Greg away. 

 

“Shh Sherlock. It's okay. Whatever is going on inside your head right now, it's okay. I'm not leaving.”

 

_ “You won't?”  _ The words pop up in his head but he pushes them down quickly, instead focusing on trying to breathe and get control of himself again. He can feel Greg's chest go up and down against his back, the warmth radiation of the man's body and he concentrates on that, trying to mimic Greg's breathing pattern. 

 

“Le-Lestrade.”

 

“Shh Sherlock. Don't try to talk. Just breathe. It's all fine.” 

 

The hold he's in gets tighter and he stops fighting it, relaxing his body bit by bit as Greg whispers near his ear. It's a mix of English and French, with some Italian words thrown in, and it helps Sherlock to focus, translating the words as his tears finally stop. 

 

By the time Greg let's go of him and turns him around he's exhausted, head pounding and eyes stinging and he looks down at the ground, afraid to see Greg's reaction. 

 

“Are you? Do you need anything? Sherlock?” Greg's hand strokes his hair before capturing his cheek and adding some pressure so Sherlock has to look up. The expression in Lestrade's eyes is a mix of worry and compassion and Sherlock takes a step back, getting out a handkerchief to wipe his face.

 

“I'm fine. You- you don't need to stay here Lestrade. There, there's a party.”

 

“It's just a party, Sherlock. There will be another one next year.” Greg's voice is soft, his eyes concerned but he doesn't step closer to Sherlock. 

 

“Besides, this is my office so if anyone should leave...” The end of the sentence is left unspoken and only now does Sherlock take in his surroundings. 

 

_ Of course. _

 

“Sorry, I didn't realize. I'll leave.” He can only take one step when Greg blocks his way, hands firmly on Sherlock's biceps. 

 

“No, Sherlock. I was joking. I don't want you to leave and I don't want to go back to the party.”

 

“But- but you like Christmas.” He knows how stupid it sounds the moment he hears it, wanting to crawl inside a dark corner and just stay there but Greg gives him a soft, kind, and friendly smile as he squeezes his arms and Sherlock feels like crying again. 

 

“I like Christmas.” Greg nods his head, running his hands down Sherlock's arms before letting go of him. “But I can hardly enjoy it when you're in here. Hurting.”

 

“I'm not hurting.” He snaps, voice rough and throat sore. He swallows, trying to ease the soreness, but it just gets worse and then Greg is moving. His heart skips a beat, fear spiking at the thought of Greg leaving but then his hands wrap around the bottle Greg has pressed to him and he blinks his eyes in confusion. 

 

“Drink Sherlock.”

 

_ Oh. _ His face flames up as he realizes it's a bottle of water and he takes a deep gulp wondering if people feel this stupid around him all the time. 

 

“How do you stand being around me?”

 

“Sorry?”

 

Sherlock bites his lip, blaming his blabbing on not enough sleep and food. It's been difficult doing both those things and it's part of the reason he's here tonight. Going home means being alone, crashing down on the sofa, being haunted by nightmares and bad memories. Suddenly he feels exhausted but the idea of giving in, of letting the guilt and fear enter his mind, is too frightening so he pushes it down, looking up at Greg instead. 

 

“Is this how people around me feel? Stupid?”

 

“Sherlock, what are you-”

 

“Well, is it?” He places the bottle down before stepping forward, crowding Greg's space. The man just radiates warmth like an open fireplace and Sherlock wants to get as near as possible. A trace of Greg's cologne is still there and it calms some of his nerves, letting out a deep breath as Greg watches him with concern. 

 

“You should go home, Sherlock.”

 

“You haven't answered my question. How can you stand being around me when I- When I'm-”

 

_ Smartarse. Arrogant. Know it all.   _

 

_ I am Sherlock Holmes.  _

 

“Sherlock.” Greg's voice is firm but kind and Sherlock blinks, trying to get the man into focus. “Let's get you home. Okay?” Greg pats his hand and he realizes he's grabbed him by his shirt, faces inches from each other.

 

“I don't think you're an idiot, Greg. Never did.” He whispers, somehow it's important for Greg to know that. It's hard to focus, his eyes stinging from crying and from sleep and he breathes in and out. Greg's typical scent tickles his nose and he leans forward, wanting to feel some of the man's heat again. 

 

“Sher-”

 

A pair of soft lips touches his and Sherlock lets out a sigh, body going pliant, feeling a pair of arms wrap around his waist before he's gentle being pushed back. The cold is all consuming and he shivers, not able to stop a grumble of discontent and he hears a soft huff near his ears, feeling like he’s floating as Greg's voice reaches him.

 

“Don't worry Sherlock. I'll take care of you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great Christmas Eve!

**\--Chapter3--**

“Morning sleepy head.”

 

Sherlock lets out a sound as the light from the night table stings his eyes. He wants to go back to sleep, to the peace and quiet of moments before. It was nice there, no fuss, no cases to solve. Nobody telling him what to do or how to behave. No eyes following his every movement, scared he'll break down. 

 

“I know you're awake Sherlock.”

 

The voice next to him sound familiar, but it takes a few seconds more for Sherlock to place it. When he does his body goes tense, heart rate going up as he turns and looks into Greg's amused but cautious eyes. 

 

“Morning.”

 

“You. Greg?” Sherlock blinks, sleep rapidly fading as he takes in Greg next to him. “What- what are you doing in my bed?” Sherlock sits up, noticing he's still wearing his clothes. “This is  _ my _ bed.”

 

He shakes his head, confusion making it hard to think and suddenly it feels like he can't breathe anymore. He's about to get up, away, away, away, when a warm hand grabs him by the elbow. 

 

“It's okay Sherlock. Breathe. I swear nothing happened.” 

 

“What? You? Why?”

 

Warm hands are placed on his face and Sherlock can't do anything but stare into Greg's eyes, focusing on the way his lips move till he recognizes the words being spoken. 

 

“Breathe. In and out. Just like that. Breathe. In. And out. Good. Again.” 

 

It feels like he's staring into Greg's eyes for hours, trying to find his breathe again and stop his racing heart. Concern is clear in Greg's eyes but his voice stays calm and firm throughout as he helps Sherlock through his panic. Then Sherlock is back in the here and now, breathing going like it should while Greg removes his hands and gives him a warm and approving smile. 

 

“What's the last thing you remember Sherlock?”

 

It takes a second to answer and realizing that is almost enough for Sherlock to panic again. 

 

“Hey, look at me. It's okay Sherlock, just, take your time.”

 

“Christmas party at the Yard. Horrible sandwich.” Sherlock wrinkles his nose at the memory of the taste. He'd mostly eaten it to please Greg, having seen the concern in the man's eyes but it had felt like wet cardboard in his mouth. Now Greg gives him a smile, nodding his head before speaking. 

 

“Yeah, thought you weren't too fond of it. But,” Greg's fingers wrap around his wrist and Sherlock's heart skips a beat at the contact. “Thank you for eating it anyway. For me.” Another smile that lights up Sherlock's room and he nods his head, not knowing what to say to that. 

 

“Is that all you remember?” Greg asks, a hint of caution in his tone that makes Sherlock nervous, feeling the tiny squeeze Greg gives his wrist before pulling back. It's weird, sitting here in the middle of his bed, Greg next to him, asking him questions like a 5-year-old. Sherlock can't figure out the hint of emotions in Greg's eyes and expression but he does see the twitch near the man's mouth and he frowns. Something about Greg's mouth... 

 

“Oh god.” 

 

Before he can even move or do anything Greg has his hand firmly in his, keeping him from escaping and there's a surge of panic going through him as he avoids the man's gaze. He kissed him! He kissed Lestrade. Suddenly everything rushes back, the party, Greg's comment and how it had affected him. How tired he'd been and how warm and comfortable Greg was. It had seemed like the logical thing to do, keeping himself close to that warmth, that feeling of calm that had come over him. 

 

_ Dammit! _

 

“Sherlock, look at me. Hey,” Greg tries to make eye contact but it's too much to handle and he shakes his head fiercely, pulling his hand away from Greg's and almost falling when he tries to get out of bed. 

 

“Sherlock, don't!” 

 

He lets out a curse when his foot is tangled in the sheets, wanting to rip them apart to make his escape, but then Greg is by his side, pressing him down on the bed before going on his knees. 

 

“Let me get that. Stop moving Sherlock, you're only making it worse.” Greg looks up, a flash of irritation in his eyes and he stops struggling, swallowing down a lump in his throat as Greg frees his foot from the tangled sheets. 

 

“Please don't look at me like that.” Greg whispers, placing a hand on Sherlock's knee and Sherlock can only look at it, feeling how warm and heavy it is. “I'm not mad Sherlock. Okay?” Greg's hand moves from his knee to his face and this time he meets Greg's brown eyes, trying to find any trace of a lie. 

 

“I'm not mad. You were exhausted, Sherlock. I don't think you realized what you were doing. I'm only here in your room cause you refused to let me leave.” Greg gives a smile and Sherlock wants to die of embarrassment again. There's a flash of strong arms wrapped around him, the memory of a chest against his back. 

 

“I'm sorry.” 

 

He almost chokes on the words, his heart racing as Greg stays silent and after another 5 seconds, he risks a glance at the man. There's a look in Greg's eyes that Sherlock can't decipher and he frowns, risking another glance and seeing a smile form on Greg's mouth. 

 

“I'm not.”

 

Greg gets up and Sherlock can hear his knee pop because of it. He looks up, seeing the grimace on Greg's face before he sighs and shrugs a shoulder as their eyes meet. 

 

“Clearly not getting any younger.”

 

Sherlock can't stop a smile at that and Greg sits down next to him, keeping a little bit of space between them. Sherlock can hear Greg take a breath, hear how he lets it out slowly before running a hand through his hair and then turning to face Sherlock's direction. There's a tension in the air that makes Sherlock's skin buzz but he can't look at Greg, not yet. 

 

“I'm not sorry for you kissing me, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock tries to say something, but nothing useful comes to mind so he closes his mouth again, feeling like a lost and confused child. 

 

“I'm trying to not read too much into all this. It's obvious that yesterday was a long day. You've clearly not eaten properly in a while and you needed rest. I know that people can act a little crazy on not enough sleep but-”

 

“It's not just that.” Sherlock bites his lip, feeling how his face and neck go warm as the words hang between them. His heart is still racing, sweat forming underneath his armpits and he can feel Greg shift next to him on the bed, the man's knee touching his thigh. 

 

“It's not?” 

 

Sherlock shakes his head, hearing the hopeful tone in Greg's whispered question and he looks up, wringing his hands together as Greg does his best to keep a neutral expression on his face. 

 

“It's not just because I was tired.” He stops, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh. “I know it's useless. After all these years you know me better than most so you know what a pain I am. I'm terrible at all this and the idea of me standing a chance is-”

 

“Sherlock.” He's ripped out of his thought by a hand on his knee, Greg's other hand taking his hand and squeezing it. It's hard not to look into Greg's eyes and what Sherlock sees there nearly makes his heart stop beating, all the blood going to his groin as Greg slowly nods. 

 

“Sherlock?” 

 

“Greg, are you-”

 

“Yes.” Greg breathes out, leaning forward and suddenly Sherlock's ability to think is gone as Greg kisses him deeply. 

 

_ Oh.  _


	4. Chapter 4

**\--Chapter4--**

 

“Oh?” Greg smirks when he looks at Sherlock, touching his lips before dropping his hand on the bed. All the air seems to be gone from the room and Sherlock needs to blink a few times before he can get a clear picture of Greg. 

Greg. The man that's just kissed Sherlock as his life depended on it. 

 

“That's really all you have to say? Oh?” Greg is still smirking and Sherlock finally comes back to himself, giving the man a light shove before rolling his eyes. 

 

“You look pretty when you blush, Sweetheart.”

 

Greg twirls a curl around his finger and Sherlock's stomach does a flip when he sees the satisfaction in Greg's brown eyes. Somehow the color is a shade darker, hints of gold speck in them and Sherlock opens and closes his mouth to find a witty remark but all that comes out is. 

 

“Sweetheart?”

 

“Too much?” Greg frowns, a flicker of doubt in his eyes and Sherlock shakes his head, finally finding his voice back.

 

“No. It's just,” His stomach goes into a knot but he lets the words come out anyway. If there's anyone he's safe it's with Lestrade. “No one has ever called me that before. Or any sweet nickname for that matter.” 

 

“Then I'll have to make up for that, won't I, Sunshine?”  Greg smiles and it sets Sherlock's body on fire. He reaches out a hand, touching Greg's cheek and looking into the man's eyes. He can't really believe this is real, that Greg is here in his bed, watching him like that. There's a fondness in Greg's eyes that melts Sherlock's heart and he can't do anything but lean forward and kiss Greg. 

 

He lets out a moan when Greg kisses him back without hesitation. Running his hands through Greg's hair and straddling his lap to try and get closer while Greg's hands go down his back, grabbing hold of his arse. Sherlock smiles as they kiss, rocking his hips forward and feeling the effect it has on Greg. 

 

“You're a tease, Darling.” 

 

Greg's voice is hard, full of desire and Sherlock nods, biting his lip before moving his hips again, seeing the reaction on Greg's face. 

 

“Greg.” He licks his lips, desire and fear making it hard to speak. His fingers tremble when he runs a hand down Greg's chest, hearing the hiss it causes as he awkwardly palms the man's cock.

 

“Sherlock, we don't have to- Oh.” Greg's eyes fall closed as Sherlock squeezes, feeling Greg's cock twitch underneath his palm. He kisses Greg again, ending it with a tiny bit before kissing and licking Greg's neck and suddenly he's under the man, letting out a moan as Greg's weight settles on him.

 

“Sherlock, oh Sweetheart.” Greg whispers, kissing Sherlock senseless and it feels like Greg's hands are everywhere, caressing and teasing Sherlock's body. He arches his back, hearing someone beg for more and realizing it's his own voice.

 

“You're gorgeous, Doll. Utterly gorgeous.” Sherlock blinks his eyes, feeling the air on his skin and he looks down, seeing Greg's fingers open up more buttons, stroking the exposed skin. They stare at each other than and the desire and heat in Greg's eyes nearly takes Sherlock's breath away. 

 

“Greg.” He reaches out, not sure what he's asking for and then they're kissing again, Greg's body covering his, wrapping his legs around the man's waist and moving. 

 

“Oh, that's perfect Love. So sweet.” Greg lets out a growl, nibbling at Sherlock's earlobe and he can't stop himself from rutting against him, cock going up and down Greg's leg. 

 

“Just like that, Baby, oh, you're gorgeous. All mine. So sweet.” Greg plants tiny kisses on his chest, calling Sherlock pet names as he goes down. Sherlock lets out a scream as Greg's mouth takes one of his nipples and sucks. Greg's hand grabs hold of his, holding them tightly as he licks and sucks his nipple. Sherlock wriggles underneath Greg, wanting to touch the man, feel his skin on his but Greg doesn't let him, only torturing him with his warm and wet mouth, pressing his cock against Sherlock's leg from time to time.

 

“Greg, please! Oh, please!” 

 

He lets out a frustrated sound when Greg let's go of him, trying to grab him but Greg gives a wicked smile, getting off the bed and winking before opening up his shirt.

 

“Look at me, Darling. God, you're gorgeous like this.” Greg whispers, eyes going over Sherlock, opening his shirt and letting it drop to the floor. Sherlock can't take his eyes of Greg, seeing the tiny hairs on the man's chest, how they go down to the waistband of his trousers. He sits up, taking in every little freckle and imperfection. His heart skips a beat when Greg's fingers go to his zip, a hint of shyness in his eyes before he pulls it down. 

 

Before Greg's trouser are completely off, Sherlock is already out of bed and on the floor, looking up at Greg with hungry eyes. 

 

“Fuck.” Greg growls, his knees shaking as Sherlock reaches out his hands, stroking Greg's chest carefully, feeling the hairs underneath his fingers. He pinches a nipple, hearing Greg hiss and he licks his lips, looking up at Greg with want. It's never been this strong before, wanting to touch and feel someone else. To explore every inch of Greg's body. His hands go down Greg's side, feeling the shiver it causes. 

 

“Sherlock, I don't think I can- Fuck.” Greg grabs hold of Sherlock's shoulder as Sherlock takes hold of the man's cock, licking the slit experimentally. 

 

“Baby, I-” Greg's hand find their way into Sherlock's hair, grabbing hold of it and Sherlock lets out a needy moan, breathing air against Greg's cock, seeing it twitch as Greg moves his body forward. 

 

“Can I? Please?”

 

“Fucking hell!” 

 

Hearing Greg curse like that makes Sherlock's heart skip a beat and he grabs hold of Greg's cock again, not waiting for an answer before taking it into his mouth. It's been a while, needing time to adjust and find the good technique, but soon Greg is panting above him, fingers pulling harder on his curls and Sherlock relaxes his jaw, letting Greg fuck him as he tries to stay calm. 

 

“Oh, Sherlock. I, oh Darling, oh god.” 

 

He's about to choke when Greg pulls out, cursing loudly as he pulls Sherlock from the floor and manhandles him back on the bed. The kiss they share is heated and on the edge of painful and Sherlock can feel Greg's cock throb against his leg. He arches his back when Greg makes fast work of his pants, exposing his cock to the air and then Greg is working them both fast and hard. 

 

“Oh Baby. Fuck. Oh yes, just like that.” 

 

“Greg. Greg. Greg.” 

 

He wants to see, but can't keep his eyes open, head falling down on the pillow as Greg picks up the pace. It's almost there but not enough and Sherlock reaches out a hand, interlacing their fingers before wanking each other off again. 

 

“That's it, beautiful Baby, let me see you come. Oh, Sherlock. Come on, Sweetheart, come for me, let me see you undone. Moan, Sunshine, moan for me. Yes, yes, yes!”

 

Sherlock let's out a scream when his orgasm hits, cum landing on his stomach and their joined hands, he hears Greg growl, body tensing up and then the mess on his hands gets worse as Greg shakes and shivers. Sherlock wills his eyes to open, seeing the look on Greg's face and he lets out another moan.

 

Greg drops down next to him, chest heaving up and down and Sherlock turns to face him, wrapping a leg around the man, leaving little kissing on Greg's neck and shoulder as they both come down. Greg's arm feels heavy around his waist but it's not enough and he moves, tugging at Greg's hand. 

 

“I'm too heavy, Sherlock.” 

 

“No.” Sherlock tugged again and Greg moves, draping himself half over Sherlock, giving him a deep kiss before looking into Sherlock's eyes. 

 

“That was perfect. You're perfect.” 

 

Sherlock can't stop a blush, seeing the delight in Greg's eyes and he tries to push the man off him. 

 

“Oi! I'm not going anywhere now Sunshine.” 

 

“You're acting smug, Lestrade. Stop it.”

 

“Can't.” Greg smirks, a gleam in his eyes as he kisses Sherlock again, “I just had sex with the most amazing man I've ever known. I'll be smug about it for as long as I want. Come here.” Greg takes his chin and Sherlock lets out a sign when they kiss again. It's tender and loving and suddenly he has to fight back tears. 

 

“You okay, Sunshine?” Greg whispers, leaning back and Sherlock nods his head, blinking his eyes rapidly. 

 

“I'm fine. I, I just never thought-”

 

“Me neither.” Greg smiles, pure happiness in his eyes as he strokes away a stray curl. 

 

“But we're here now. I don't regret it. Do you?” Greg whispers, kissing Sherlock's lips before looking at him, question in his eyes. 

 

“No.” Sherlock's heart skips a beat when Greg smiles at him. It's the kind of smile that can light up a whole room and Sherlock's body feels warm and relaxed as they lay there, Greg running a hand through his curls. 

 

“Let's clean up? Then maybe some breakfast or back to bed.” 

 

“Breakfast in bed?” Sherlock responds, the laugh it earns him making him smile like a loon as they get up and head for the shower. 

 

After their shower and breakfast, they're back in bed, kissing and caresses each other without a hurry. 

 

“Merry Christmas, Sherlock.” Greg whispers in Sherlock's ear, biting his earlobe before looking back at him, beginning desire in his eyes that takes Sherlock's breath away and make his cock come to life again. 

 

“Merry Christmas, Lestrade.” 

  
  


The End. 


End file.
